Rhen's feet were sore and stinging as she entered Veldarah, but after three months as a slave, the soles of her feet had grown tough with calluses. Even from what little she could see through the city's gate, the streets clearly brimmed with activity.

Surprisingly, the guards barely gave Rhen a second glance as she walked through the gate. With how strict Ghalarah had been in ensuring that slaves couldn't leave, she had assumed that Veldarah would be the same... Though perhaps the city was simply too big for anyone to care much about that. But as Rhen looked around, no one stood out to her automatically as a fellow slave. There was a noticeable difference between the rich and poor, to be sure, but if there were any slaves, they blended in perfectly.

Rhen couldn't help but gape at the vast city as she stepped foot onto the cobbled stone roads; compared to Veldarah, Ghalarah was practically shabby. Even Clearwater paled in comparison, seeming more like a quaint, forgotten hamlet than the vibrant village that Rhen remembered it as.

Veldarah's expansive streets were disorienting, winding and weaving through the buildings and the bustling marketplace that Rhen stepped into. The cobbled streets were so different from the worn, wooden pathways of Ghalarah, and among all these people, Rhen felt like a tiny fish swept into a vast ocean.

Rhen gravitated towards the first store she saw, hoping that she might find some directions to Shadwood from there. The sign bore a symbol of a key, suggesting that it was a junk shop, so perhaps some of that "junk" would prove to be maps of the area. The store's tile floor was a cool, soothing contrast to the hard cobblestones outside, and Rhen was immediately grateful for the respite it had on her weary feet.

"Good day, miss. If you see any goods that you'd like to buy, let me know," the shopkeeper greeted her, surprisingly polite despite Rhen's obvious griminess. "You are a slave, I reckon? From which house do you come?"

"None. I've recently been freed," Rhen replied, absently looking around the shop as she drew closer to its keeper. "I'm on my way to Shadwood Academy. Do you know where I can find it?"

To his credit, the shopkeeper actually looked embarrassed at his assumption, his posture immediately straightening as realization washed over him. "My most humble apologies! You are a new student, then? The empress will be very pleased indeed."

He walked around the counter to pull out a map of the city, pointing out a spot in the upper left corner. The area was marked by a flower, a small banner denoting it as the Flower District. "The academy is here in the northern part of the city. You can't miss it. Here, take the map," the shopkeeper insisted, rolling up the map and handing it over.

"Oh— Thank you," Rhen said, surprised by how eager the shopkeeper had been to help her as soon as she mentioned Shadwood, even though she was dirty and clearly still looked like a slave, based on the shopkeeper's initial assumption.

The sun's heat bore down on her as Rhen stepped out of the junk shop, the cobblestones warm beneath her feet. She weaved through the crowds as she made her way towards the city's northern district, the signs thankfully making it easier to navigate.

The houses here in Veldarah were noticeably cleaner and better constructed than those in Ghalarah, built from stone and fenced in with tall metal spires. As she took in the sights, Rhen felt a sense of disgust recalling how Lars's mother had behaved. Rona had always acted as if she were above everyone else in Ghalarah, but she was only a small-town noble. What right or reason did that woman have to act like she was anywhere near this kind of rich?

Although she was clearly dirty, grimy, and still dressed in her threadbare dress, Rhen was surprised to find that most people here just... ignored her. Some people – obviously the nobility – gave her judgmental looks, but other than that, they didn't bother to call out insults or go out of their way to otherwise degrade her. It was admittedly a nice change of pace from Ghalarah's townspeople.

The closer Rhen got to the Flower District, the more rural the city seemed to become. The cobblestone roads gave way to smooth grass and gravel roads; with the flowers blooming on every roof, wall, and terraced balcony, the name was incredibly fitting. In the distance, a tall stone building loomed, its logo visible from the distance: a crossed staff and sword encircled by a laurel.

Though heavy, the academy's oak doors easily opened for her. The sounds of sword-fighting and spellcasting echoed through the halls, distant though they were. In an area just off the entryway, Rhen caught sight of a tall, blonde man in dark green robes, his piercing eyes observing something that she couldn't see from here. If she had to pick the headmaster out of a crowd, this man certainly seemed to fit the bill.

Tentatively, Rhen approached the man, but before she could open her mouth, he held up a hand to stop her. "Token, please."

Rhen was taken aback for a moment, surprised by how suddenly she'd been stopped in her tracks. "Pardon me?"

"If you do not have a token from an accredited sword singer or sorcerer, you will have to leave," the man explained, a weary note in his voice as he rubbed at his temples. "This academy is for gifted students only."

In her excitement and all the hustle and bustle of the city, Rhen had just nearly forgotten about the token Lorad handed to her. "Oh, yes – I'm sorry," Rhen said bashfully, showing the man her token.

The man's eyebrows rose to his hairline in surprise, his eyes widening. "Ah! So you are one of Lorad's wards," he remarked, his voice taking on an impressed tone. "It has been a long time since he has signed for anyone. You must be special."

He beckoned for Rhen to follow him, leading her into an office clearly labelled as the headmaster's – so Rhen's guess had been correct after all. The room was humbler than Rhen expected, only having a dark wooden desk and matching bookshelves. There were a few personal touches, of course, but otherwise, the office looked like any other professor's.

The man – who Rhen knew to be Harald judging by the nameplate on the desk – walked around to the other side of the desk, reaching into one of the drawers and pulling out a key and piece of paper. "The key is to your room; the schedule has your classes for this year," he explained. "Your student clothing should be in a chest in your room. Do not miss any of your classes, or I will have your hide."

"Of course, sir! Thank you!" Giddy with excitement, Rhen had to stop herself from rushing out of the office. It all felt so surreal. A part of her couldn't help but feel like this was all just a dream.

Rhen began to set out towards her room, once again following the signs that pointed her towards a small courtyard. There were a few students milling about, all clad either in tan or red uniforms. The courtyard itself was idyllic and cozy, reminding her a little bit of the town square back in Clearwater.

"Oh, um... Excuse me?" Rhen approached one of the older students, a young man not much older than her in a tan, blue-accented uniform. "Can you tell me where the dorms are?"

"Sorcery students have rooms in the east tower; sword singers are in the west," the student answered promptly, gesturing towards the doors on the other side of the courtyard. The towers loomed over them, the vines wrapped around their walls giving them a rather sophisticated look.

After thanking him, Rhen took a deep breath in to brace herself, striding over to the leftmost door. The dormitory's tiled floor was cool to the touch, pristine in a way that made Rhen feel out of place. The few sword-singing students that passed by all held themselves with confidence, completely unbothered by Rhen's presence as she searched for her room.

The tag attached to her key was marked with a number and a letter, presumably referring to the room's number and its floor, judging by how the dormitory doors were marked the same way. Although the cool tiles were a welcome relief, Rhen's feet still ached from walking around all day, and she was all too happy to finally find her room. Thankfully, she didn't need to climb any stairs to get there.

As soon as she entered her dorm room, Rhen was sorely tempted to collapse into bed, but it was so clean and neat that it felt wrong to get it dirty with her sweat and all the dust from the jungle. She dragged her feet over to the chest at the foot of the bed, relieved to find that there indeed was a clean school uniform for her. The silk felt heavenly on her skin as she discarded the threadbare dress she wore as a slave, tossing it aside into the room's small wastebasket.

A yawn escaped Rhen despite her resistance, the fatigue from her journey finally catching up to her. The mattress felt like clouds compared to the hard floors of the Tenobors' house, and before her head even hit the pillows, Rhen was already drifting off into sleep...

"What news have you, sun priest?" Ahriman regarded Dameon with a cool look, his expression betraying nothing of what he truly thought. The only thing colder than the look on Ahriman's face was the tone in his voice.

"None good, sire. The slave trader captured the wrong woman – a girl, actually," Dameon answered, down on one knee and his head bowed as he addressed Ahriman. "The priestess gave her guardian ring to a girl. A priestess never removes her guardian ring, not for anything. We could not have guessed that this one would."

"Interesting... Why would a priestess do such a thing?" Ahriman asked, slowly circling Dameon much like hawks did their prey.

"I do not know, sire. But I do think it ironic that the woman would give her most valued possession to a peasant." Dameon didn't react to the feeling of Ahriman examining him like an animal in a cage, but regardless, Ahriman's gaze prickled his skin. "Should I send assassins to dispose of the girl?"

"Do you dare to tell me to waste resources on a girl of no importance?" Despite the steadiness of Ahriman's voice, it was clearly calculated. Unbidden, magic flowed down to his hands, as if he were preparing to strike; even from where Dameon knelt, the waves of Ahriman's magic pressed against him, stifling his breathing. "Find the priestess and kill her! No more mistakes!"

The sound of a portal opening and approaching footsteps was the only thing that distracted Ahriman from acting on his anger, and Dameon let out a barely audible sigh of relief as the pressure of Ahriman's magic lessened, standing to his full height from where he knelt. Judging from the sound of armored feet hitting the ground, Agas had just returned.

"Sire, the demon portal has been opened," Agas reported, stopping directly in front of Ahriman. "The daevas are arriving as we speak."

"Excellent," Ahriman hissed, his lips peeling back into some semblance of a grin. "Has Indra passed through the portal yet?"

A wave of cool air washed over the group, quickly dissipating in the realm's heat. "It feels so good to be on the other side," the woman it heralded said with a delighted sigh. "So much destruction to spread in so little time. What need have you of me?"

"Indra. Who is this girl the sun priest speaks of? Can you read her part in the apocalypse?" Ahriman demanded, wasting no time on niceties.

Indra's eyes brightened with glee at the prospect of hunting someone down, even if it was someone she knew nothing about. "Who is this girl, sun priest?" she repeated, stepping closer to Dameon and tilting his face with her frostbitten hands as she observed him. "What more can you give me?"

Dameon recoiled from Indra's touch, raising a hand to his jaw to melt the ice from Indra's touch. "Her name is Rhen," he responded once his jaw was unfrozen, cringing at the feeling of his skin cracking because of Indra's frostbite. "A slave trader gave me a lock of her hair. Will this help your reading?"

Indra hissed as Dameon held the hair out towards her, instinctively throwing up a shield of ice to protect herself against whatever she sensed.

"What do you see, demon?! Tell me!" Ahriman demanded, the heat of his magic nearly overcoming the biting cold of Indra's.

"She will destroy you," Indra spat out, glaring at the lock of hair in Dameon's grip.

"Then she dies!"

"But if you destroy her, so shall we be destroyed!" Indra's voice rose to a shriek as she spoke, her eyes glowing a bright white as visions of potential futures assaulted her.

"No more riddles! How do we survive?" Ahriman spun Indra around to face him, his face twisted in rage.

"The sun priest is the key," Indra replied, her voice multiplied and distorted as she pointed a frostbitten finger towards Dameon. Her eyes still glowed, seeming to stare right past the sun priest. "He must turn her to our ways; the girl must become one of us."

Ahriman nodded curtly, the rage on his face giving way to a cold satisfaction. "So be it."

More and more portals opened as the other daevas began to arrive, each of them more delighted than the last to finally be free from their prison.

The chronomancer Aesma was the last to arrive, immediately kneeling before Ahriman as he stepped out from his portal. "We have all arrived, sire."

"Excellent." Ahriman's eyes lit up with sadistic glee, an uncharacteristic grin gracing him. "It is time for you to destroy the Arishta Isles."

"Sire, I would like to make a recommendation," Dameon cut in, stepping forward to face Ahriman.

Ahriman's mouth settled into a thin line, his eyes narrowing at Dameon. "Speak, sun priest."

"Attack the druids, take their shrines. They cannot stop us if we stop them first," Dameon said swiftly, unbothered by the fact that he was helping to take down his former allies.

"The human is right," Indra agreed, moving to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Dameon in solidarity. "The druids are inherent to our destruction. We should eliminate them first."

Ahriman considered the suggestion for a moment before nodding curtly. "It shall be done."

He raised his arms as he reopened the daevas' portals, his cloak flaring out behind him; so many portals opening at once caused the air pressure to drop, and the effort took a drain on even Ahriman. His cackle of delight echoed as the daevas took their leave, his voice following them even into the realms they escaped to: "Release your darkness upon the foreign lands, my children! Show this paltry world the power of the daevas!"